What Devin Nunes Really Saw— Transcript of a Conversation Between Roseanne Barr, The Don, and Mikey Flynn
Flynn is sitting down to dinner with his wife, and Flynn Junior.
Junior reaches for the the mashed potatoes as he says:
“Dad I’m still really pissed that The Don got you fired, I mean what the duck? Can’t think why you don’t have your own pizzagate and bring him down?”
“Junior your assholio behavior was why I lost my job, so shut your Aryan gob.”
Junior stares at his Dad angrily as he spoons lumps of soggy mashed potatoes onto his plate.
Just as his father reaches over to stab another piece of meat off the central serving platter with his fork, getting a disgusted look from his wife as he does so, his cell phone goes off loudly. He briefly looks at the screen before he gets up and walks away from the table.
“Hang on a minute.” He says softly
As he steps into the solarium he puts the phone against his ear and whispers:
“What’s up?”
The phone call is from the chief architect of fake news in the US, Roseanne Barr, also known to the FBI as 008.
“I just talked to our friends and they want me to pass along a message for them.”
“Okay humpty dumpty (Roseanne’s code name) I’m listening shoot,” he replies.
“Remember Litvinenko.”
Flynn is silent for a few minutes before he replies,
“Litvinenko?”
“Yes, Litvinenko,” she says softly and then puts the phone down.
Flynn stares at the dead screen for a few minutes while he tries to recall what she might have meant. Then as he it dawns on him he starts running out of the solarium towards the bathroom, where he sticks his fingers down his throat and barfs what he’s just eaten.
As he sits back on his heels in front of the toilet bowl wiping his hand across his wet mouth, he starts to shake.
It takes him a few minutes before he is finally able to recover himself, wash his hands and return to the table.
His wife and son have already finished their meal, but his wife says to him:
“Honey don’t feel you have to rush your food,” and reaches over and puts another scoop of mashed potatoes onto his plate.
His face turns pale as he looks down at the meat in front of him with its globs of cold gravey, gets up abruptly and excuses himself from the table, saying he has a bad headache.
Once he’s reaches the safety of his supposedly wiretap-free bedroom, he dials his bff Donnie at the White House.
“Hows it going dude” DJT asks him as he sits tweeting out about the ball less Paul Ryan, and the thirty Republicans that are now permanently on his future “ to destroy shit list.”
Flynn whispers desperately into the phone in response:
“The Russians are trying to poison me Donnie.”
“Make them an offer they can’t refuse Mikey.”
“Get rid of them Donnie. I need you more than ever on my side bro now the party’s started.”
“Never forget, the Don’s proud of you Mikey. You’re in the famiglia now.”
“You know I’d do anything for you Donnie. I’m in between a rock and a hard place -I don’t want to stay in the greybar hotel, the stoney lonesome,” Flynn replies as he starts to sob loudly into the phone.
“What’s the matter wid you Mikey you cryin like a woman.”
“I gave up evertin for you Donnie,” Flynn replies snivelling.
“You gotta act like a man Mikey.”
There is a long silence on the other end and then Donnie finally speaks,
“Don’t you worry Mikey, I’m goin to make Vlad an offer he can’t refuse. Leave it to me - go on back to your family, rest, relax and eat.” He says as puts the phone down.
After a few minutes he tweets out:
“Vlad I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse, leave Mikey alone or its your nuts in a Crimean woodchopper.”
He sits back satisfied and shouts:
“Bring me anuda cupa coffee Ivanka would ya, oh and taste it first.”
